


Fuchsia

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Hapistance Week (Fire Emblem), Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, they bone twice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:33:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25094650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Constance is a disgraced fashion designer. In order to repair her reputation, she needs to play along, but that means sacrificing everything she loves about fashion.When she meets Hapi at a horrible industry function and falls instantly for the beautiful artist, she learns she might have more to lose than just her standing in the fashion world.
Relationships: Hapi/Constance von Nuvelle
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Fuchsia

**Author's Note:**

> Don't think too hard about this one. I'm sure this isn't how the fashion industry works, but it's just for fun.
> 
> This is for Hapistance Week 2020, day 6: Fashion. This is a pretty obvious interpretation of that theme, but it was fun and I don't care. This pairing needs more E-rated smut.
> 
> If you're here for the smut, they have sex twice - search for the second scene and the final scene.

Constance hated everything about this place.

The insufficient finger food, the vapid conversations, the empty, backhanded compliments. Everything from the ice sculpture dispensing wine to the smiles were hollow. 

Constance endured it all in silence. She sipped her champagne to hide her grimace, pretended to be interested in the conversation chittering around her and smiled as pleasantly as possible. All the while, her gut tightened, shoulders hunching under the weight of a hundred skittering eyes like birds pecking at her. She knew they were watching her, discussing in hushed tones how she had the _gall_ to show her face.

“You must tell us all about your new project, Constance,” the woman beside her said.

Constance took another sip of her champagne. She tried to smile through the grimace forcing its way onto her lips. The woman was some designer. Constance knew her vaguely, as vaguely as she recognized everyone else in this stuffy room full of puffed up plumage. 

“It’s not very developed yet,” Constance said.

“Oh, yes, of course,” the woman said. “How forgetful of me. It can be hard to remember what it’s like to be up and coming again.” 

Constance’s smile wavered. “It’s not as though I am unaccustomed to success.”

“Naturally,” a man said. “But that was so very long ago.”

Constance ground her teeth. 

“I heard your newest collection will be very … ‘urban.’ How quaint.” 

Constance raised the glass to her lips, but she suspected it did little to hide her expression. “Would you excuse me?”

She slipped away without waiting for answer. Perhaps she fled the group too quickly, turning into the crowd dispersed through the gala, but Constance didn’t care. She just needed to get away from those craven crows and their satisfied grins. 

Chandeliers lit the cavernous hall where waifish models mingled among designers and artists. Most wore black, though a few of the more pretentious designers donned bright, mismatched colors artfully layered. They were like peacocks, all vying for attention, their gaudy feathers on full display. 

Constance set aside her empty champagne flute on a catering table before making for the bathrooms. She had to dodge through the crowd to reach freedom, sometimes walking right through groups of guests, but she didn’t care. She simply wanted out.

Constance shouldered her way into the restroom. When the door swung shut behind her, it clipped off the babble of voices. 

She sighed in the relative silence, leaning against the cool tile of the bathroom wall and shutting her eyes. 

A toilet flushed. She straightened, but the woman who emerged from the stall was no one she recognized. In fact, she hardly looked like she belonged at the gala at all. She had bright red hair and wore a purple ensemble that those clucking hens out there would have quickly labeled “garish.” White sneakers toned down the formality of the pants suit, making the woman look cool and casual without even trying. 

“How do I measure up?” The woman turned around, leaning against the sink where she’d washed her hands. 

“Oh.” 

The woman smiled, but not like the snakes outside. This smile was real, amused but not at Constance’s expense. 

“You smoke?” The woman pulled a joint and lighter out of her suit jacket. 

“No,” Constance said.

The woman lit the joint and took a puff before offering it to Constance. She wasn’t sure quite why she accepted, why she dragged the sweet smoke into her lungs. Constance held it in her mouth, breathing deeply before exhaling a faint cloud into the bathroom. 

She instantly started coughing. 

The woman took another drag while Constance hacked. “Hapi.”

Was that a question? Constance caught her breath before responding. “No, actually, this whole thing sucks, if you really must know.”

“No, that’s my name. Hapi.”

“O-oh, I am Constance.”

Hapi took another puff, offering the joint back to Constance, who just shook her head. “So if this sucks so much, why are you here?” Hapi said. 

“Why indeed.” Constance meant to mutter it, but the smirk on Hapi’s face told her she hadn’t quite been quiet enough. She slouched against the cool tiles, feeling a little lightheaded now, but in a pleasant sort of way. 

Hapi stood beside her. This time, when she offered the joint, Constance took a more delicate inhale. She passed it back, sighing out the smoke.

“I’m here because,” Constance said, “because I’m trapped.”

“Don’t look trapped to me.”

“You clearly do not understand. I have no choice whatsoever about groveling at these vultures’ feet. They’d make an even bigger disgrace of me.”

“So?” 

Constance glanced at the woman beside her. “It is my career, if you insist on this line of questioning.” 

“Ah, you’re one of them.”

“Excuse me? One of _them_?”

Hapi moved quickly, far more quickly than Constance’s hazy mind could follow. In a flash, her arms were on either side of Constance, caging her in. She was very close now, so close Constance could smell the cherry in her lip balm. Maybe it was the effect of the smoke, but Constance desperately wanted to taste those lips just then. 

“Look at you,” Hapi said. “A high society … designer? I’m guessing, based on the clothes. Hiding in the bathroom smoking a joint with the likes of me.”

“And just who are you?” Constance wished her voice wasn’t coming out so breathy, wished she didn’t feel frozen against the wall. 

Hapi shrugged. “An artist.”

“Wh-why are you here then?”

Another shrug. “To fluff their egos, I assume.”

“Then you are little better than me.”

Hapi leaned closer. “Is that so?”

Constance swallowed before responding. “Well, you don’t want to be here, do you?”

“Neither do you.”

Constance studied the face so close to hers, those bright red eyes, the shine on Hapi’s lips, the cute bulb of her nose. “No,” she said, “I don’t.” 

Hapi leaned even closer. Her mouth was against Constance’s ear when she said, “Then let’s leave.”

#

They did. 

Hapi fumbled with the keys to her apartment while Constance distracted her with kissing. They hadn’t separated their mouths since they’d hopped in the cab. Their lips were still mashed together when Hapi got the door open and they stumbled inside.

Constance kicked the door shut. Neither of them bothered locating a light switch. Hapi pulled Constance along, dragging her to the bedroom. 

Constance felt the bed before she saw it. Hapi shoved her onto the mattress, climbing over Constance and sitting on her hips. 

All Constance could do was watch as Hapi stripped off her shirt and bra in the dark. Constance’s hands quivered as she reached up for those perky breasts above her. They were smooth and firm, contrasting the shaky surrealism of the whole ordeal. Those couple hits in the bathroom were making Constance’s head swim; the realization that she’d ditched that horrible industry function to fuck a stranger did nothing to help steady it.

Hapi put her hands over Constance’s, encouraging her to squeeze, groaning when Constance complied, and Constance’s head finally, blissfully cleared.

Hapi was rocking now, grinding her hips over Constance’s. Constance could already feel the heat building between them, a spark lit by friction and lust and weed and more. 

Constance shifted her hands, yanking Hapi down, holding her by the hair as she kissed her. Why did every inch of Hapi feel so good? Why did Constance suspect she’d starve the moment their lips broke apart? 

She didn’t care to think about it. Instead, she rolled them over, getting Hapi on her back. 

Constance couldn’t spend another moment not knowing what she tasted like. She kissed down Hapi’s bare torso, only pausing when she reached Hapi’s hips and had to tug down her pants. Dark panties covered in candies waited beneath. Constance rubbed a hand over the underwear and Hapi moaned, writhing. Constance kept stroking, watching Hapi gnaw on her lip, eyes squeezed shut. It seemed like she was holding back her voice, but Constance hardened her determination to draw it out.

She slid the underwear down, pausing for a moment to gaze at the lovely mound beneath. A tuft of trimmed red hair led to Hapi’s pussy.

Constance shuffled down the bed to lay between Hapi’s legs. She used her fingers to feel along Hapi’s cunt, tracing the folds, feeling the wetness already building at her entrance. Even that drew a reaction, a shuddering little cry that made Constance so hungry she could weep. 

She indulged at last, using her tongue to explore while her fingers kept roaming. And goddess, it was even sweeter than she’d imagined. Constance could taste the faint smoky tang of weed among Hapi’s musk. She dug her tongue deeper, searching for more.

Hapi grabbed Constance by the hair, dragging her head up. She looked right in Constance’s eyes as she drew Contance’s hand to her mouth, sucking on two fingers. Constance shivered, her whole body flushing as Hapi’s tongue lapped at her fingers. 

When Hapi popped those fingers back out of her mouth, Constance dove back to her task. She placed a wet digit at Hapi’s entrance, swirling around before nudging inside.

Hapi arched against the bed, eyes fluttering shut. Constance added a second finger, receiving a groan in response as she started pumping them inside Hapi.

It was beautiful to watch. All the fashion and art at that horrible party could not begin to compare to the loveliness of the woman squirming on Constance’s hand. Hapi rolled her hips, clutching at her breasts as Constance worked those fingers inside her. Her breaths grew ragged, her voice high and pleading when it finally burst out uninhibited.

Constance only allowed herself a few moments to watch before she lowered her head again, adding her tongue to the efforts of her fingers. When she licked at Hapi’s clit, Hapi rasped a curse. Warmth pooled around Constance’s fingers, building like a flood trying to explode past a dam. 

Constance curled her fingers, searching within Hapi. She pressed her tongue harder, making a short loop around Hapi’s clit.

“Fuck,” Hapi gasped. “Just like that.”

The path now revealed, Constance tread and re-tread it like a runner doing laps. She committed the places that made Hapi shudder to memory, mapped them permanently on her tongue and fingers. Constance pounded her hand faster, working her tongue tirelessly. She was dizzy with the scent and taste of Hapi as the woman clenched around her fingers and Constance pressed, not letting up until she felt that dam give way at last. Hapi arched up, letting out a clipped cry that warbled into shuddering as she relaxed back down. 

Constance eased her fingers free. She almost didn’t want to wipe them off now that they were slick and fragrant with Hapi. But Hapi sat up, cupping Constance’s face in her hands, kissing her as she guided Constance onto her back on the bed. 

All Constance knew for the rest of that night was shivers of bliss, the rasp of her own voice, the heat that bunched up inside her body before Hapi released her and they collapsed together breathless and shivering.

#

Constance bought a shirt on the way to work.

Thankfully, she’d woken up early enough to sneak out of Hapi’s bed and get a shower. She’d even found a spare toothbrush under the sink in the tiny bathroom. Hapi was still sleeping peacefully when Constance snuck out of her apartment. 

All that had only served to reveal the next problem – where _was_ Hapi’s apartment? Constance had had little sense of which direction they’d traveled after leaving the party. It had been hard to think about street signs when Hapi was practically in her lap for the entire taxi ride.

Heat flushed through Constance at the memory of the previous night. She shoved it aside, calling a cab and giving the driver the address for the office. 

It turned out Hapi was only a couple miles outside of downtown, which got Constance to work early enough that she could grab a much-needed coffee on her way from the drug store where she’d snagged a new shirt. The image of the city’s logo was a bit jarring against the formal black pants she’d worn to the gala, but it would have to do. Constance entered the office with her coffee in hand, forcing her head to stay high and praying no one bothered to notice her less than meticulous appearance. 

Even coffee couldn’t disperse the fog in Constance’s mind, though. She felt like she spent the morning in a haze, lost in the memory of Hapi’s mouth, her hands, her taste. At times, unbidden, she swore she could taste and smell Hapi again, like her scent was a fragrance misting the air. It made Constance quiver every time. More than once, she found herself sucking on her bottom lip, chasing the memory. 

That made it all the more startling when someone leaned against the side of her desk.

Constance barely managed not to shriek. Maeve propped a hip against Constance’s desk, arms folded under her chest. 

“So,” Maeve said.

Constance cringed. This was how Maeve started every conversation about Constance’s many failings and “missed opportunities.” 

“How was the gala?” 

Constance wanted to melt into the floor and hide beneath her desk. Apparently, her disappearance last night had not gone unremarked. She took a breath, willing herself to sound normal when she replied, “It was quite enjoyable.”

“That so?” Maeve said. “I heard you retired early.”

“Oh, that, well,” Constance said. 

Her phone buzzed. She saw Maeve’s eyes flicker toward the device as though it had announced Constance’s sins. 

“I was rather tired,” Constance said. “You know how exhausting those function can be.”

Maeve lifted a thin, gray, penciled-on eyebrow. She leaned down closer to Constance. “I am trying to give you a chance, Constance. A chance few others are inclined to offer you after that nasty business with the embezzling. A chance to restore your good name in this industry. Do you understand?”

Constance’s blood turned to ice. She understood all too well, in fact. She’d nearly been run out of town for the sins of her business partner, sins she’d had no knowledge of until his arrest, but sins that stained her all the same. 

Maeve hovered there a moment, far too close for comfort, before finally backing off. “Very well. See that you remember yourself when you represent us in public then, won’t you?”

Constance just nodded, looking down at her hands as her boss’s high heels clicked away. 

Constance remained like that for a moment. She could feel the stares of her co-workers, all of whom were well-aware of Constance’s dramatic fall from grace. The high fashion world was small and incestuous; nobody _didn’t_ know. 

She snatched her phone, standing abruptly, barely remembering her purse as she started for the stairwell. It was a solid hour earlier than she usually took her lunch break, but Constance felt like she’d suffocate if she spent one more second in that office full of stares and whispers, full of gnawing, pecking eyes. 

Constance only made it a block before she leaned against the side of a building and sighed. Her fingers trembled. She craved a cigarette for the first time in years. And her damn phone was buzzing again. 

She glanced at the screen. Two messages. Both from Hapi.

Questions arrived in a rush. Why? How? Had Constance left something at her apartment? When had Hapi even gotten her number? Constance had only the vaguest recollection of exchanging any kind of personal information.

It took three tries to unlock her phone. She pulled up the messages:

_hey_

_do you wanna hang out or something?_

That was it. No emojis. Nothing more specific than that. Just two blunt sentences. 

Constance hesitated before replying. Maeve’s pep talk still had her spooked. If people had seen Constance leave the gala, had they seen Hapi leave with her? Or had they merely noticed Constance’s absence? 

Hapi was an artist, if Constance recalled correctly. Not part of the fashion world, just an accessory to make their little functions seem more exclusive. If anyone realized Constance had skipped out with some random artist the rumors would be relentless – and vicious. 

Yet as Constance looked at her phone, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore or delete the texts. Did she want to “hang out” again? Yes. Goddess, yes. She wanted to do more than hang out. She wanted to bury her face in Hapi’s pussy and lap up that sweet taste, satisfy a hunger that felt insatiable. 

Perhaps … perhaps no one would know. It’s not like Constance was friends with any of the jackals she worked with. 

_yes_

She hit send before she could think about it. Almost immediately, three dots appeared. Constance clutched her phone as she awaited Hapi’s reply. 

_Tin Tiger Coffee tomorrow at noon?_

Constance looked it up. She could get to it from the office, do this whole thing in the span of a lunch break. That didn’t sound like nearly enough time, but it was something.

 _yes_ , she typed.

#

Constance scanned the sidewalk. The tables in front of the coffee shop bore a couple patrons, but no one Constance recognized. 

She advanced toward Tin Tiger Coffee, still searching as she neared black and orange striped umbrellas and the tiger logo of the cafe. A bell jangled when she stepped inside and joined a line of patrons. 

Constance swept the shop. No sign of Hapi. No sign of anyone else she knew, either. She wasn’t sure if she was more relieved by the lack of co-workers or upset by the lack of Hapi.

The bell jangled again. Constance turned in time to see a flash of red hair, but the line moved in the same moment and she found herself at the counter utterly unprepared.

“What can I get you?” the barista said.

Constance floundered. She always got the same thing, but suddenly she couldn’t remember what that thing was. “A … uh … I’m sorry.”

“Take your time.” 

Constance scanned the menu written on chalkboards behind the counter, searching for an answer. “Mocha.”

“OK, what size?”

“The … largest one.”

“Sure.” 

Constance felt her cheeks getting hot, but she made it through the motions of the rest of the transaction, paying and stepping aside so the next patron could order. The next patron being, of course, Hapi, who winked as she stepped past to make her order. Constance pretended she hadn’t seen the little gesture, studying a photo of an intricately woven rug framed on the wall.

Constance startled when a hand slipped around her waist. Hapi drew back, but stood close beside Constance while they waited for their drinks. 

“Jumpy,” Hapi said.

“My apologies,” Constance said. 

Hapi yawned. She was dressed plainly in jeans and a T-shirt with some sort of graphic on it, but somehow she still outshone everyone else in that cafe, every office worker in their suits or slacks or pencil skirts. Hapi was like a strawberry among flowers, bright and sweet and incomparably delicious. 

Constance shuffled closer to Hapi, indulging, sliding an arm around her waist, feeling Hapi against her. Hapi made a noise that might have been a laugh, then leaned against Constance’s shoulder. 

The coffee arrived quickly, far too quickly, forcing them to separate. Constance found a table outside and sat under one of the orange and black umbrellas. It was far too nice a day for being inside. Plus, this way Constance wouldn’t be trapped if … well, if... 

Hapi arrived with her coffee and a few little cakes bejeweled with jellies and fruits. Hapi popped one into her mouth, then nudged the plate toward Constance.

“Try em,” she said around a mouthful of cake. 

Constance plucked up a cake, holding it like it might burn her and turning it to evaluate it from every side. She took a delicate bite, just a corner of the thing. It was surprisingly good, the jelly not too overpowering, the fruit adding a bit of freshness, the cake itself a nice compliment to the sugary confection. 

“Not bad, right?” Hapi said.

“It has a pleasing flavor,” Constance said.

Hapi laughed.

“Excuse me?”

“You have a funny way of talking,” Hapi said. “I didn’t really realize the other night. Not much talking.” 

Hapi wiggled her eyebrows and Constance flushed. She sipped at her coffee to conceal the reaction. 

“Not that I minded the lack of talking,” Hapi said. “No complaints here.”

“Then what, pray tell, are we doing here?” It came out more bitter than Constance intended.

“Good point,” Hapi said. “I guess we’re kinda doing things in reverse. But I thought I’d try to get to know you, do the ‘date’ thing. Though, if you prefer, I can just invite you over again.”

The heat in Constance’s face burned hotter. “V-very well.”

“Very well, what? Coming over again? Or chatting?”

“Conversing, of course!” 

Constance hid her face with her coffee again, drinking the mocha far too quickly. She’d be a jittery mess by the time she got back to the office. 

Speaking of which... She glanced around, but the patrons remained strangers one and all.

“Favorite color.”

“What?” Constance refocused on Hapi, who was popping another cake into her mouth. 

“Favorite color,” she said around the food. “What is it?”

“I … fuchsia, I suppose. Though it is problematic in terms of design, the hue itself is quite pleasing.”

“Problematic, huh? Sounds like an opportunity.”

“What?”

Hapi shrugged. “Difficult choices make the piece more interesting, don’t they?”

Constance paused. The sentiment wasn’t surprising coming from an artist, but Hapi clearly didn’t understand what the fashion world was like. One did not simply use gaudy colors just to “challenge” or be “difficult.” 

“You work for someone else, right?” Hapi said.

Constance nodded.

“What if you didn’t?” Hapi said. “What if you made whatever you wanted? What if you did a whole fucshia line?” 

Constance laughed behind her hand. “Why, that would be preposterous, utterly absurd. I’d be laughed out of the industry.”

“Is that any worse than where you are now? At least you’d have made something you love.”

Constance opened her mouth to respond, but just then someone approached the coffee shop. They locked eyes with her and Constance’s blood went cold. She dove under the table without thinking.

“Hey, what?” Hapi said. 

“I dropped...” Constance couldn’t even think of an excuse. All she could think was that she dearly, dearly wanted to dissolve into the sidewalk in that moment.

“Constance?” Hapi said.

“Constance?” Not Hapi this time, but a voice that made Constance cringe and wish she could die right on the spot. “What are you doing under there? It must be filthy.” 

Constance braced. There was no escape. She could see leather shoes and tailored slacks even from under the table. Better to just get this over with. 

She climbed out from under the table. “Oh, Jason. Why, I didn’t even see you coming.” 

Her co-worker raised an eyebrow. “I thought I saw you leave for lunch. Didn’t think you came here though.”

“Well, I … I was in need of a bit of extra caffeine, as it so happens. So I thought I would investigate a local establishment that I heard is of good repute.” 

“I don’t know that I’d call Tin Tiger ‘good repute,’ but they can make a decent coffee,” Jason said.

“Quite.” 

The pleasantries passed, but Jason lingered. Constance could feel him weighing her, weighing Hapi. He didn’t need to speak for Constance to hear the questions lingering in the air.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Constance said. 

Jason smiled in a way that made Constance’s stomach clench. “No. Just saying hello. Who is your friend, Constance?” He looked Hapi up and down. “I don’t suppose they’re someone I might know.”

“Oh, no, no, of course not,” Constance said. “Just … an acquaintance. An old acquaintance. Catching up, you know?” 

“An acquaintance from where? Surely not your previous employment.”

“No,” Constance said quickly, too quickly. “No. Just. Around.”

“Hm,” he said. That short sound contained more derision than it ought. Yet he turned away. “Well, enjoy your coffees.” 

Constance let out a held breath when he finally left to enter the shop. Her relief was short-lived. Hapi was glaring at her from across the table, arms folded under her chest. 

“What?” Constance said. “Surely you did not expect me to introduce you as my partner. We’ve only just met.”

Hapi jerked to her feet, collecting her things. “Obviously, but you might have at least had the minor courage required to call me a friend? To act like I was sitting here at all? You really mean to let these people bully you around for the rest of your life though, huh?” Almost as soon as she spoke she started to leave. 

Constance rushed to stand, to catch her before she fled. She managed to get Hapi by the wrist. “Wait.”

“Why?” Hapi said. “Clearly, I’m embarrassing you. Clearly, I’m not rich enough or fancy enough or whatever it is you people measure each other by.”

“It’s not … I’m not...”

“What? You’re not what? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Really?”

Constance didn’t let go, but nor did she respond. 

Hapi tore her wrist free. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving Constance alone outside the coffee shop.

#

Somehow, it only took a day for the story to spread through the agency. The pitying, disgusted looks gathered like birds roosting on Constance’s shoulders, weighing her down, hunching her back. 

How? How had she made this worse? How did she have both sides thinking less of her? 

It was her own fault. Her own carelessness had put her in this impossible position. But she’d wanted to see Hapi. She’d wanted it so badly. Even thinking about seeing Hapi again stirred something in Constance that had nothing to do with shame. 

_At least you’d have made something you loved._

Constance had made something she loved. Once. And her business partner had ruined it, tarnished not just the line but Constance’s reputation and standing in the industry. Now, it seemed like everything she did only buried her deeper. 

Constance was beginning to doubt there was any way out. She’d been given a second chance here, an opportunity to restore her name, but even that was accomplishing little but stacking up more enemies in the industry. 

_So then why do you care so much what they think?_

Hapi’s voice rang in her head, demanding a response. 

“I don’t know,” Constance moaned. “I don’t know.” 

Yet here she sat, listening to Jason whisper about her, letting Maeve heap indignity on her at every opportunity. And worst of all...

Worst of all Hapi probably hated her.

Was that the worst part? Constance’s heart lurched, daring her to answer. 

Instead, she stood, gathering her things in a rush. She tried not to think as she packed her bags and grabbed her coat, as Jason made a startled exclamation, as Maeve called after her. She kept her head down, rushing, urgent. There was only one place she needed to be and it wasn’t this office full of pecking birds. 

“Where are you going?” 

Constance froze just before the stairwell. She turned to find Maeve staring at her, arms folded under her chest. 

“If you leave, you can’t return,” Maeve said. 

Constance knew the threat wasn’t empty. This really would be it. She’d be out of chances, out of friends, out of opportunities. 

Constance looked around the office. They were all watching her now, Jason and Brit and Auden and all the rest. They were hoping for the spectacle of her ruin. 

She turned her back to them. 

“You’ll lose everything,” Maeve said. 

Maeve was right. She might lose everything. If she didn’t leave right now.

Constance shoved open the exit door.

#

She stepped out of the cab and into glaring midday sunlight. 

Constance didn’t remember the trees lining the entrance to the apartment complex, but, then, the last time she’d been here she’d arrived stoned and left delirious. 

She trembled as she approached the apartments, but this time it wasn’t excitement making her quiver. She felt cold and jittery, full of frenetic buzzing. Her fist paused before the door, but she couldn’t seem to make herself knock. 

Hapi opened the door before Constance managed to gather her courage. She said nothing; her expression revealed even less. Hapi turned and stepped away, leaving the door open, an invitation, of sorts.

Constance accepted, though cautiously. She remembered little of the apartment’s layout, but it wasn’t a large space. The kitchen and bedroom were separated by nothing but a change from tile to carpet. Constance spied a bathroom down a hall, but that was it. 

Hapi sat on her bed, leaning back on her hands. “If you’re going to apologize, you might might as well get to it.”

Constance froze. Hapi just stared at her from the bed. Constance couldn’t help remembering all the things they’d done on that bed – and all the things they hadn’t. There was still time, or so Constance hoped. 

“I left, you know,” Constance said.

Hapi smirked a little. “That so? You want a medal?”

“No, I’m merely telling you how I’ve come to be here. I thought you might want to know.”

“Fascinating.”

Constance pushed on, determined to at least make her point. “They told me I cannot ever return. It’s really over.”

Hapi didn’t respond so Constance continued. “I don’t know what I’ll do. I walked away from my last chance, I fear. I … well, I’ve never aspired for anything else. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“But you left.”

“Yes,” Constance said.

“Why?”

Constance stared at the woman on the bed. She was beautiful, even lounging like that, hair unkempt, wearing a T-shirt and jeans. She was stunning, in fact. More beautiful than the models Constance saw so frequently. 

Her chest constricted. She took a faltering step toward Hapi, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. Hapi sat up straighter. Constance was between her knees now. 

“I left because...”

It was getting harder to breathe. Constance couldn’t force the words to squeeze out of her tight throat. And still Hapi simply watched her, though her expression was beginning to crack, the fissures fanning out like a web, softening her lips and eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Constance said. “I’m so sorry.” 

Hapi finally grimaced, finally let the hurt show through. It stabbed a dagger into Constance’s chest. Gods, what had she done? What had she done? 

Hapi leaned forward, cupping Constance’s face in her hands. “Why are you still trying to impress people who will never care about you?” 

“I don’t know,” Constance said.

“What if you tried to impress yourself instead?” Hapi said. “What would you do if you felt like you could do anything you wanted, like you could make what _you_ wanted, like you had no one to answer to but yourself? Where would you be?”

Hapi’s hands were warm along her face. Constance rose up on her knees, placing her hands on Hapi’s thighs, drawing close to her lips. 

“I’d be here,” she said. “I’d be right here.” 

Hapi leaned down to meet her and it was all Constance could do not to shudder. She gripped Hapi’s thighs to steady herself against the wave of vertigo those lips elicited. She tasted the heat behind them and pressed closer, hungry for more, but Hapi drew away. 

“It’s not enough just to run away,” Hapi said. “You need to fight back.”

“How?”

“Think.”

Constance did, frantic, urgent, searching for any answer that Hapi might accept.

But no, that was wrong. It wasn’t whatever answer Hapi might accept. It had to be real. It had to be true. What would she make if she was only creating for herself and no one else, not even Hapi?

“I have an idea,” Constance said.

Hapi smiled down at her, pulling her into another kiss.

#

If anyone didn’t know who “anonymous designer #13” was before Constance arrived at the gala, they soon shed their confusion. 

Stares followed Constance into the art gallery. Hapi squeezed her arm. Constance smiled at the woman beside her, stunning in a patchwork suit of overlapping, loud colors. 

“How do I look?” Constance said. 

Hapi leaned over to kiss her. “Perfect.”

Constance smoothed her fuchsia dress. “Then let us go, shall we?”

Hapi nodded and they set off into the party. 

In truth, the term “party” was more than a little generous. There was nothing joyous about the assembled designers and models. Most wore black. Most clutched their flutes of champagne and gaped at Hapi and Constance when they entered in garish colors. Most whispered behind their hands even before they realized who Constance was. 

Constance didn’t care. For once, she truly, deeply did not care. She got drinks for herself and Hapi. She danced to the trendy techno pulsing through the gallery. She spent her entire evening with Hapi, ignoring the fluttering birds trying to settle on her shoulders. 

And when it came time for the reveal, she stood proudly beside her work.

“Next is a new line by, uh, by an anonymous designer,” the announcer said. 

Every other line had been somber and sober. Every other line had received polite applause. Now, though, the assembled onlookers shuffled nervously, shooting their eyes toward Constance when they thought she wasn’t looking. 

The curtain came down. A muffled gasp rippled through the crowd. 

The mannequins beyond the curtain stood straight and tall, wearing an entire line of fuchsia gowns, fuchsia suits, fuchsia hats and gloves and belts and shoes and skirts and everything in between. It was blinding in the dull room of drab colors. It screamed for attention. It was ostentatious and loud, demanding notice. Demanding to be seen. 

The crowd recovered, offering timid claps. Constance could hear the uncertainty in it, the fear. She laughed, sweeping Hapi into her arms. 

“Not the reception I woulda hoped for,” Hapi said.

“It’s perfect,” Constance said. 

She kissed Hapi then and there. Constance was sure she was drawing glares as the kiss went on, hungry and lingering, utterly improper. 

They broke apart, but Constance stayed close, hands on either side of Hapi’s face. “I need you now,” she said. 

Hapi nibbled on her lip. She took Constance’s hand and led her out of the gala, letting the stares peck at them, letting those fluttering birds titter and ruffle their feathers. It didn’t matter. It would never matter. Never again.

#

They did not go far. Hapi and Constance only made it to the gardens outside the art gallery before they were on each other. 

Hapi pushed Constance against the wall of the building, kissing her as she forced Constance’s arms above her head. Their bodies writhed against each other, the heat already building. 

“Here?” Constance said.

“Yeah,” Hapi said. “I mean, if you’re OK with that.”

Constance smiled. “Very much so.” 

The trees provided some cover, but only if no one bothered taking a stroll through the garden. If they did, they’d quickly stumble upon Hapi and Constance, groping at each other while pressed into a shaded and covered little corner. The tress attempted to shield them, but Constance couldn’t help thinking about the fact that they were very much still in public.

They heard someone coming and ducked down among the bushes. It was Maeve. Constance knew it the moment she heard the woman calling for her. 

Even as they hid, Hapi snuck her hand under Constance’s dress, teasing her pussy with deft fingers. Constance struggled not to moan, chewing her lip to bite back the noise. 

“Constance,” Maeve called. “Constance, you are making an absolute _fool_ of yourself. Have you no dignity left? No pride?”

Hapi withdrew her hand. She dug into her purse, pulling out a double sided dildo, pink, of course. “Well,” she whispered. “Have you any pride left?”

Constance licked her lips looking at the toy. “Certainly not,” she replied. 

She took hold of the toy, getting it in her mouth while Hapi still held it. Constance ran her lips up and down the toy, getting it slick, laving her tongue over the smooth silicon. She popped it out of her mouth, making a show of licking all the way up and down it while looking right at Hapi.

“Fuck,” Hapi breathed.

Hapi scrambled, getting her pants down, slicking up the other end of the toy, working it inside her. Constance couldn’t help admiring how incredible Hapi looked with that pink cock jutting out of her. 

“You are destroying your career,” Maeve shouted, still ranting somewhere outside the garden.

Constance covered her mouth to hold in a laugh. Hapi pushed her down into the grass beside the bushes. They lay in the shade of the tree, concealed by shrubbery, though anyone who walked down the garden’s paths and happened to peek over the foliage would spot them easily. 

Somehow, that only made Constance’s heart race faster. 

Hapi crawled over her, stroking the toy, angling it at Constance. Hapi rubbed the toy over Constance’s cunt, grinding against her clit. Constance was already wet, eager to receive it, whimpering to get fucked right there in the bushes. 

The toy pushed inside and Constance tilted her head back, letting out a shuddering gasp. Hapi held still a moment, perched over Constance. She fiddled with something on the toy and Constance felt it spring to action, vibrating inside both of them.

“Ffff--” Constance bit down on her lip to keep from crying out at the feel of that toy buzzing inside her. 

Hapi smirked, eyes glittering with mischief as she started to move. The toy pushed deeper into Constance, then pulled back out. With each thrust, Constance rasped, her breaths shredded into desperate whimpers. 

Hapi didn’t let up, picking up speed as Constance’s wetness made the toy slide more easily. And all the while it buzzed inside both of them. Constance could feel it through her pussy, in her clit, even in her gut. It made her whole body tremble in sympathy with her dripping pussy. 

“Outrageous,” Maeve called somewhere. 

Constance laughed amid her moans. Let her keep throwing her jabs, let her keep prodding at Constance. Nothing she said would pierce the sweet cloud of bliss thrumming through her just then. 

Hapi grinned like a cat. She pounded into Constance, rubbing at her own clit as she did. 

Constance joined her, rubbing her own clit, adding yet another layer of sensation to the riot crashing through her. She thought she might shatter if Hapi didn’t release her soon, but she welcomed the fall. For once in her life, she embraced every pathetic, shivering, whimpering moment of her own destruction.

And what sweet destruction it was. Hapi goaded her on, brought her to the precipice of pleasure, and, finally, shoved her unceremoniously over.

Constance couldn’t hold back a cry as her whole body clenched. A flood washed out of her. She had no idea how the toy stayed inside as she shuddered, releasing a warm gush over it. 

Hapi kept thrusting a little longer, thrumming her clit until she too went rigid and drenched the toy in her pleasure. 

Afterward, they lay in the grass, not even bothering to right their clothes, just holding each other. The garden was quiet around them now, the gala distant. Maeve was gone. Even the trees were still, their branches devoid of birds. 

Constance loved everything about this place.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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